What Comes Down
by Pivot
Summary: RiD, set after 'Attack From Outer Space': Movor finds out just how much disgrace he's in. Oh, and Mega-Octane has an idea...


_Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers, though if I did, we'd have some decent traffic wardens around here._

_Anyhow, new cast, new universe to play in, crits still greatly appreciated. Particularly so, since this is my first time messing with RiD. This fic's meant to bridge the gap between 'Attack From Outer Space' and 'The Test' - or at least start that bridge._

* * *

**What Comes Down**

"You're such an idiot, Movor." Ro-tor hit the key to open the airlock door.

"Yeah, yeah, just keep rubbing it in, why don't you?" Movor groaned and tried not to scratch the outsides of his arms. Heat-resistant his armour might have been, but he'd hit the atmosphere way too hard, and the outer layer there was badly burned and cracked. It was also starting to itch horribly where the saltwater was getting in the cracks. Nothing hard to fix, but it'd only get worse if he rubbed at it.

The bits that really hurt, though, and probably the main reason Ro-tor was being kind enough to open the doors for him, were the lower part of his gauntlets, where his vehicle-mode nose was. The tip was completely shattered; the outer part of the armour around his hands was melted and fused, and it hurt to move his fingers. Whether that was from the impact or the heat they'd been subjected to, he didn't know.

"Oh, boy," he muttered, as the door opened and he followed the blue copter-bot into the Megastar. _I'm so in for it…_

"No kidding," Ro-tor snorted, though he probably hadn't read the other Decepticon's mind. "After today, you'd better hope Scourge is too busy to find you."

"Hey, gimme a break! It's not my fault he moved!"

Ro-tor shot an unimpressed look over his shoulder. "It was a battle, in case you didn't notice. People _move_ in battles."

"Well, yeah, but… it was my first time firing from orbit. I didn't know it'd take that long to get there."

"You mean you didn't practise?" Ro-tor asked incredulously.

"The simulator's only got planet-side scenarios," Movor snapped. "I think Gas Skunk erased most of its memory.

"Why would he do that?"

"How should I know? That stupid Pred-head's always messing around with the computers. He probably did it by accident." Movor glared at Ro-tor's back and wished his rotors would drop off.

"Then his error will have to be corrected." Movor started at the sound of Mega-Octane's voice, then looked past Ro-tor. The commandos' leader was standing outside the repair bay door, arms folded. He was obviously waiting for them. Ro-tor had the sense to step smartly away to the right, leaving Movor to face his displeased leader.

The disgraced shuttle-bot quivered, but stood to attention as best he could. Mega-Octane wasn't Scourge by a long shot, but he was bad enough – and he had bones of his own to pick with Movor's performance. Scourge might go after personal vengeance: Mega-Octane would deal with the incompetence bit. It hadn't been so bad before, when a mission failed, because up to now everyone had failed together. This time it was entirely Movor's fault.

Mega-Octane didn't look particularly angry, but then, he didn't need to. He looked Movor up and down, noting the damage, then nodded to the repair bay door. "We'll talk about this after you get that repaired."

It was a reprieve, not a pardon, but it was better than nothing to a bot whose arms wanted to crawl off his shoulders and into a vat of liquid nitrogen. Movor relaxed slightly. "Thanks," he said weakly, and took a step towards the door.

A thought – a frightening thought – occurred to him then. He stopped and looked suspiciously at the door, then Mega-Octane.

"Wait, Scourge is in there, isn't he?" Movor backed away, raising his hands and shaking his head. "You know what, let's skip the repairs, just cut my hands off and call me Captain Hooks-"

"As attractive as that sounds," Mega-Octane said, while Ro-tor stared in confusion, "you will need your hands to make up for your failure today. Fortunately for you, Scourge is in no condition to deal out any punishment." He gave the shuttle a pointed stare and waited.

Movor dithered. "Are you positive about that last bit, 'cause…?"

"Just go, Movor."

The white Decepticon gave them an unhappy look and trudged reluctantly into the repair bay.

As expected, Scourge was sitting on the other side of the room, with Rollbar finishing up his repairs. When he looked up and saw Movor, he snarled, optics flaring visibly. The smaller Decepticon stopped in his tracks as Scourge rose, brushing his indignant repairman aside.

_If today hadn't hit rock bottom yet, it has now, _he thought, trying to think what to say to calm his leader down.

"Hey, I'm not done fixin' you yet!" the green bot protested, waving a tool at his commander's back.

Scourge ignored him. "Did I hear you request an amputation?" he hissed to Movor, reaching for his sword.

"No, no! That was just a- a slip of the tongue!"

"At least wait 'til I'm done! Wait, what tongue?"

Movor didn't get to tell Rollbar to shut up: he was too busy trying to evade an oncoming Scourge. Various worktables and bits of equipment were getting in the way.

_And I thought I'd stopped crashing back outside_…

* * *

Ro-tor listened to the crashes from inside the repair bay. His optic band blinked a few times, then he looked up to his right at Mega-Octane. "Why'd you lie to him?" 

"I didn't," Mega-Octane said, his optic band narrowed in the direction of the door. Hints of damaged equipment didn't go down well with he who used it most. He should have gone in and fixed Movor himself instead of handing things over to Rollbar, he thought furiously, starting forward.

"But you said Scourge couldn't punish him…" Ro-tor began behind him as the door opened.

"Yeah, well, you must've forgotten to tell Scourge," said Rollbar, stamping out. The sounds of a protesting shuttle-bot rose in volume briefly, then dropped again as the door slid shut behind him. "He's poundin' – well, tryin' to pound Movor back into orbit, and he's s'posed to report to Megatron in ten minutes."

Mega-Octane sighed and strode in to pull Scourge off. Rollbar shrugged, caught Ro-tor by the arm, and dragged him in to help.

* * *

His arms had been repaired when Movor ventured out to face the music, but they still hurt like crazy. It was just as well Scourge hadn't managed to give him more than a smack. Useless his arms might have been, but Movor could still be pretty quick on his feet when there was an angry truck-bot coming his way. 

Rollbar followed him from the repair bay. Movor wasn't sure whether the green Decepticon was just coming to see the whole thing settled… or he was there to make sure the shuttle didn't try and take 'the scenic route'.

"I really should've asked to call my lawyer," he muttered. 

"I guess that mighta' helped, if you had one," Rollbar commented. Movor held himself back from the automatic comeback. For once, he just didn't have the energy to be loudmouthed.

The others were waiting for him in the common room. Looked like cross-examination time.

"All right, what happened?" Armorhide demanded as soon as they came in. The tank-bot was standing closest to the door, arms folded.

"Whaddya mean, 'what happened'?" Movor asked, while Rollbar slipped around both of them and went to stand by Ro-Tor. "You were there."

"Why didn't you find the Autobot base?" Rollbar nudged one of the few chairs with his leg, moving it closer to the wall and out of his way.

"Yeah," echoed Ro-tor beside him, "you were up there long enough."

Movor glared at the pair of them. "So what exactly was I supposed to see? A great big flashing sign saying 'Here Be Autobots'? There were thousands of buildings, all right? And none of the Autobots I saw went into any of 'em."

Mega-Octane's optic band was narrowed slightly. "So you led us across half the country on a wild goose chase?"

Ro-tor looked sideways up at his commander, yellow visor flickering for a second. "Base chase, actually."

"Well?" said Mega-Octane, not taking his gaze off Movor.

The white Decepticon sighed. "Look, I tracked them like you said to, and I was following them fine, but none of the ones I was watching were going anywhere much – except Sideburn, and the way he was peltin' along, how was _I_ supposed to know-"

"You never thought he might be heading for an emergency?" Armorhide asked.

"Or an oil bath?" suggested Rollbar.

"Hey, lay off, all right! It was a good shot." Movor glared at the others defiantly, daring one to bring up Scourge's opinion on that. "There was one guy the Predacons chased off, but I lost him – stupid fur-balls scared him into using those tunnels…"

"Right," Armorhide said, stepping back to the side so he could look around at the others. "When they want to go anywhere fast, they use the space bridge."

"Yeah, and when they don't, they're going slow." Movor sighed, but inwardly he thought this was a good sign. Once they got onto the problem itself, the focus shifted off him. "I can still do this, it's just gonna take some time."

"You'd have to track their movements over a pretty long time to be sure of getting it right this time," Armorhide observed.

"And how will you know when they reach their base?" Ro-tor asked. "If it's so well-hidden, it might be underground or something."

"Yeah, maybe they've got leaves all over their roof," said Rollbar.

"We can't afford any more mistakes," Mega-Octane said. "There'll be no repeats of today's fiasco."

"Then you'll just have to be more patient in future," Movor snapped. "No more nagging me about it, all right?"

Mega-Octane ignored him. Also a good sign. "Obviously we need a new strategy, if we're to find their base any time soon."

"So what do you suggest?" asked Ro-tor. "The only ones who know where it is are the Autobots, and they're not exactly gonna tell us."

"We'll see about that," said Mega-Octane thoughtfully. "In the meantime, Movor, you're to continue surveillance – and try not to draw attention to your position. By now the humans will have long since contacted the Autobots, which means we don't have their shuttle as cover any more."

Rollbar turned to the commander. "Speaking of which, what're we gonna do with the crew?"

Mega-Octane's visor flared slightly. "Leave them to me."

* * *

In the command centre, Scourge was still talking to Megatron. Neither of them paid any attention as Mega-Octane came into the room, although they certainly knew who it was. 

He'd arrived too late for the explanation; they were already on discussing their next plan. Regrouping, in Mega-Octane's limited experience, didn't take long. And as far as he could tell, Megatron wasn't particularly angry.

Probably, Mega-Octane guessed, because the failure this time hadn't been so public. And because he hadn't been personally humiliated. Being told a mission was unsuccessful didn't have the same effect as being present at the time.

"This mission may not have been a total loss," Scourge said. "We still have the human shuttle crew. We can use them as hostages to trick the Autobots…"

"I have a better idea," said Mega-Octane, coming up beside him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Scourge's head whip around; no doubt he was getting a ferocious glare for interrupting.

It was nothing to what he was going to get.

"We can use them to trick the Autobots, all right, but perhaps not as hostages," he continued, watching Megatron. It was his reaction Mega-Octane was interested in.

Megatron's gaze focused on him intently. "Go on," he said.

Mega-Octane inclined his head, and did so.

* * *

On the one hand, at least that was over with, and pretty soon there'd be a new mission soon, and everyone could focus and complain about that, and forget about the last one. 

On the other hand, Movor had stuck his head into the common room's main storage closet to see if there was any oil left on the shelves. And it wasn't looking good.

It didn't help his mood when Armorhide's voice came from behind him. "Find the Autobot base yet, Movor?"

"Why don't you try the top shelf?" Ro-tor added.

Movor uncoiled himself from around the door and glared at them. "I thought I said 'no nagging'."

"Well, why d'you think they're doin' it?" Rollbar drawled, from where he was reading on the other side of the room.

"Hey, relax," said Armorhide. "We've got something to show you."

Ro-tor nodded, already moving towards the door. "Yeah, come on!"

"This better be good," Movor grumbled as he followed them.

They brought him to the simulation room, and then Ro-tor stood around looking smug while Armorhide fiddled with the computer.

Movor looked around at the blank room. "I'm still not seein' anything."

"Huh, and you were telling _us_ to be patient," Armorhide snorted. "Just watch."

The room seemed to waver as the hologram came on, and then they were standing in the middle of simulated orbit, a holographic Earth taking up the room in front of them. Sure, now Movor had been to the real place, it'd never come close – but it was about as good as a simulation was going to get.

"Hey, nice!" He transformed and hovered in place, zooming in on the hologram planet to see how far it went. To his delight, the computer picked up on what he was doing and started transmitting him the images he should be seeing. If he paid attention to those instead of what his actual optics were seeing, it wasn't a bad substitute for the real thing.

He knew it wasn't a gift. You found out where you'd gone wrong, and then you fixed it. That was all. It was the next logical step. But it was also teamwork, and the next step to squaring things off. If you wanted to think that way, you could call it a kind of peace offering.

"It didn't take that long to program," said Ro-tor. "You could have done it before, I bet."

"So I'm lazy. So shoot me."

Movor found two guns trained on him simultaneously. "Hey, can't you guys take a joke? Just 'cause I don't share your super programming skills…"

"Yeah, right," grunted Armorhide, lowering his gun. "Well, what do you think?"

Movor focused on the visual feed he was getting. The graphics at this point were about on a par with Pac-man, but the shuttle didn't care. It was good enough for target practice, and that was the important thing. "Not bad, guys. Not bad at all."

"Now you'll have no excuse for messing up a shot," Ro-tor said cheerfully.

"Yeah, and I'll be keeping track of how often you use it," said Armorhide, coming up and giving Movor a thump on the tailfins, "so be warned."

"Geez, I get the message, already! Don't you guys trust me or something?"

"Put it this way," said Ro-tor with a shrug and an idle twitch of his rotors, "being able to call down death from above isn't much good if you don't know who it's gonna hit."

"All right, point taken." It wasn't like he stood a chance of winning this argument. "Start her up and let me have a go at this, will you?"

"Right." Armorhide must have given the command to the computer: a moment later, little targets came moving across the shuttle-bot's vision.

Movor cackled with glee, picked one at random, started to charge up his argon lasers – and then stopped.

For a second he just hovered there, silent. The others looked at each other and shrugged.

Armorhide tapped his hull impatiently. "What's wrong? Why aren't you shooting them?"

"You know, guys," said Movor, holding back his irritation, "I can take a joke, but there's a point where it just stops being funny."

He got the feeling he might have jumped to conclusions when Ro-tor went "Huh?" cluelessly.

"What in blazes are you talking about?" Armorhide demanded. Movor focused a couple of sensors on the tank-bot and decided that yes, it did look like he meant it.

"See for yourself," he said, and patched them in to his visual readings, allowing them to see what he saw.

Specifically, the little targets that bore an uncanny resemblance to Scourge.

Armorhide growled and barrelled out of the room, Ro-tor a step behind. Movor dropped into robot mode and ran after them. They didn't have far to look. The computer they wanted was next door.

And, to Movor's delight, Gasskunk was there. Life was always so much easier when you had an easy explanation for your problems. And Predacon-shaped problems were so much fun to deal with.

The unfortunate Predacon jumped up from the chair when they ran in. "What? I didn't do anything!" He looked jumpy, but then, he did have three angry Decepticons spreading out around him.

"Why don't you try keeping your paws off other people's programs for a change," Ro-tor snapped, moving to the far right.

Taking up a similar position on the left, Movor snorted. "Huh. Trust a skunk not to know when his joke's a stinker."

"Hey! What do you mean! I was just tryin' to put a deckchair in the beach-"

"Why don't you tell someone who cares?" Armorhide raised his gun – lucky he'd had it out, really.

"Oh boy," Gasskunk said in a small voice. He bolted between Movor and Armorhide – conveniently putting the computer out of danger. They let him get to the door while they turned.

"Get him!" Armorhide yelled, taking off after him.

"With pleasure!" Ro-tor yelled back. Movor just laughed and ran out ahead of the helicopter. Now _this_ was more like his kind of teamwork! Things were looking up.

_And the lesson of today's story is: it's good to get back to the fold. Try not to fall out in future._

_Also: watch out for low-flying satellites. Those things hit _hard

* * *

Scourge was waiting with folded arms and an air of resentment when Mega-Octane arrived back in the common room. "Well?" 

"The prisoners were released without incident," the other Decepticon reported. "By now the Autobots should have been contacted regarding their whereabouts. With any luck, they should get the impression we want them to."

"Hnph! A perfectly good opportunity, wasted on the off-chance of causing some trivial confusion."

Mega-Octane frowned and was about to remind Scourge that any confusion on their enemies' part was good news for them. The argument never had a chance to get underway. Their fellow Decepticons could be heard approaching the door. Mega-Octane moved to stand by Scourge and faced the door.

"…Still think we should'a disconnected the ones in his fingers," Armorhide was grumbling from behind Ro-Tor and Rollbar.

"Well, I'm not gonna do it," said Rollbar. "The repair bay's messy enough as it is without Predacons tryin' to repair themselves in it."

"What do you care? You hardly ever use it and you never tidy it," Ro-Tor pointed out. "I'm the only one who even tries."

"No, you mix it up more. I know where everything is."

"How can you- oh, hey, sir." Ro-tor could have been addressing either of the commanders; Mega-Octane was aware that it was probably Scourge.

Movor, who'd been sniggering in the back, glanced at Scourge before looking to Mega-Octane. "What'd you call us for, chief?" He sounded hopeful.

Chances were his choice of direction had more to do with Movor being angry at Scourge than respect for Mega-Octane. Still, the bigger Decepticon felt a twinge of pleasure before Scourge spoke up. "Mega-Octane has just granted our human guests their freedom."

The others had been fanning out to give each other some room; now they stopped dead and stared at Mega-Octane.

"What?" Armorhide demanded.

Rollbar was more explicit. "Why'd you do that?"

Mega-Octane glanced at Scourge coolly before looking to his troops. "Because it is the first step in our next plan: the plan that will enable us to find the _real_ Autobot base and destroy it once and for all."

"How many times were we planning on destroying it?" Rollbar asked quietly, and got elbowed by Armorhide and Ro-tor simultaneously.

Movor looked from them back to Mega-Octane. "I'm all ears, chief…"

"Now that's just silly," Ro-tor muttered.

Mega-Octane ignored them, and began to outline the plan. Let Scourge glare and mutter all he liked: this was his chance to regain some status, and he wasn't about to let it get away.

He just hoped the other Decepticons knew how to act.


End file.
